Diagnosis
by jibber59
Summary: It's only a mild concussion - right? (rating for some language and references to suicide)
1. Chapter 1

_My Leverage Muse not only left me a while ago, it packed its bags, took a train, crossed the border, headed to port, hopped a ship and sailed off to lands unknown. I had been well and truly abandoned. Then, a couple of nights ago, there was a soft tapping at my bedroom window and lo and behold, there it was again._

 _As I have mentioned before, I have absolutely no medical knowledge beyond that I have learned from TV, Google and second hand stories). However, I will say_ _ **some**_ _of the medical in this is based on the experiences of a friend (FYI – happy ending there). This story in no way is meant to diminish or disparage the circumstance those with medical issues deal with on a daily basis. This if a fiction – pure and simple._

It started as something so simple. A bang to the head. Nothing more than what he was used to, happened before – too many times to count. Not a hard hit, just enough to give him a bit of a headache. Just enough of a headache that the others noticed.

"You OK Sparky?"

"Fine – guess I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Well duh – no one is." Parker grinned, but there was concern in her eyes. "You need anything?"

"No – I'm fine. Gonna head down to the kitchen and make sure everything is in order."

"Forget about that man. You do remember we have staff for that kind of thing. Pay them for it and everything. It's their JOB."

"It relaxes me Hardison. Told you, I`m fine."

Down in the kitchen, the staff and waiters noticed he was a bit off his game and kept an eye on him. Quietly. It didn't pay to make Eliot mad, especially when he was in 'chef' mode. The new guy wasn't aware of that – yet – and jumped in with both feet.

"You really shouldn't be cutting and cooking when you aren't at 100% you know. Easy to get hurt that way."

Eliot just glared.

"I'm just sayin'. Customers don't appreciate blood in the food." He grinned.

Eliot flipped his knife. Wisely, the young man took a step back, but didn't give up. "You wouldn't let one of us in here if we felt like you look. Here man, you look like you need a drink." He offered up a water bottle.

Eliot slammed his knife onto the cutting board and everyone in the room froze on mass. With his glare intensifying he turned toward his harasser. "What's your name?"

"Kevin. I was hired last week as an apprentice." The rest of the staff was looking at him thinking that this was going to be the shortest job listing on his résumé.

"Well Kevin – you're right. Annoying as hell, but right." Eliot walked out of the kitchen, giving the rookie friendly slap on the back as he passed, grabbing the bottle at the same time. Turning to his regular head chef he spoke under his breath. "Watch out for the kid – he'll own this joint one day!"

A few days later the headache still lingered. He'd been back at work, both Leverage and the Pub, and managed for the most part to downplay the problem. But ongoing proximity to his team and the kitchen regulars meant that no matter where he turned, someone was keeping tabs on him.

So, he wasn't surprised when a team meeting was called just before closing on the fourth day. They all acted as if it was a simple get together – catching up on what's new and what was next. But it was only a matter of time before the real purpose became evident.

"OK Eliot – 4 days is too long for a headache. You need to have –"

"My head examined"

"Well, not exactly how I would have phrased it – but yes." Nate smiled.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I've had enough cracks to the head to know when I need to do something about it" Even as the words came out, he knew he could have phrased that better.

"Enough cracks to the head? Don't you think that maybe that is part of the problem? Seriously Eliot, even you can only take so much damage you know." Sophie was clearly exasperated.

"It's not just us Sparky. The guys in the kitchen have mentioned you seem a little off down there too. And don't yell at them for letting us know. We asked them."

"Look – I appreciate the concern, but I keep tellin' ya – I can take care of mys…"

Nate cut him off. "Eliot, let's cut to the bottom line. You can agree, here and now, to go see a doctor or we can continue to press you about it. Each of us. Separately. EVERY day. 4 discussions, minimum. Daily. Get the idea. We can be relentless." He grinned. It was the old "evil Nate" grin. Eliot had not missed that grin at all, and was not happy to see it back. There was no arguing with the man when that look crossed his face. Worse, the others seemed to have picked it up as well.

"Fine. Kevin told me about a clinic near here. Tried to get me to go yesterday, and today. I'll go tomorrow. Satisfied." They kept staring. "I promise. Scout's honour." No comments. "What? You want me to bring back a note?"

Nate tilted his head as if considering the offer. Eliot took a deep calming breath and quietly left the room before his desire to punch something – or someone – became too strong to fight.

 _ONE WEEK LATER_

"So Eliot…"

"Yes Nate, I saw the doctor and got back the results. And guess what. No concussion. Too bad I couldn't have saved everyone the time and energy and figured that out for myself. Oh – wait. I did."

Ignoring the slightly hostile sarcasm Nate charged ahead. "So why the headaches?"

"Maybe stress from people harassing me and forcing me to waste my time?"

"Your doctor work comedy on the side?" Nate looked up as he spoke, and was a little surprised not to see a grin on the hitter's face. "Eliot – you know we only –"

"I know Nate. I get it. Maybe I am a little tired. Maybe I really am getting to old for this crap anymore."

"Join the club. Seriously Eliot – if you think you need some help, or time or whatever you have to let us know. This isn't just for your sake, although God knows that's enough reason. We count on you to be on your game, for all of us."

"I know Nate – believe me, I know. Why do you think I agreed to get checked in the first place? When the time comes I can't take care of you – can't do my job – I'll make arrangements. You've got to trust me on this."

"I do Eliot. We all do."

Nate watched as Eliot headed out and down the hall, undoubtedly off to the kitchen. The hitter seemed to spend more of his time there lately. Cooking was his escape; his refuge when things got a little too intense, even for him. The fact that he was practically living in there for the last few days worried Nate a little. Clearly something was bothering Eliot. That was fairly easy to see. Getting him to talk about it – that was an entirely different matter. The best choice, only choice at this point, was to give it a bit of time. With any luck, the matter would resolve itself. Eliot was probably the most level headed of the group, and had an innate ability to work things out for himself, with much more success than any of the others had.

Eliot slumped back in exhaustion against the wall in the loading area. He'd passed right through the kitchen, needing a breath of fresh air before starting in there for the afternoon. His headache was pounding. Knowing the cause didn't help. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it certainly didn't help. He could feel the prescription bottle in his pocket. He reached into his pocket and grabbed at it, not pulling it out. He hated resorting to them and avoided them as long as possible. Too long according to the doctor. He fiddled with the bottle, scratching at the label with his thumb. He'd have the label removed in no time if he didn't get his nervous habit under control. Pulling it out he glared at the bottle as if the pills themselves were the cause of the problem, rather than the only thing that was going to make his life tolerable over the next weeks, or maybe months. No, not months. There was no way this could go on that long.

"You ok Chef?"

Eliot turned rapidly, surprised not only by Kevin's arrival, but by the fact he had not noticed him coming. His sudden move startled the younger man, but to his credit he refrained from jumping and running. "You looked a little shaky a minute ago. Thought maybe you could use this" he added, handing over a water bottle.

Eliot slipped the pills back into his pocket and accepted the drink. "Thanks – don't mind me. Just tired. You know – too much to do…"

"…too little time. Yeah, I get it. We got the kitchen under control if you need to be somewhere else. You've set us up like a well-oiled machine. Not that we don't like having you in there" he hastily added.

"Relax kid." Kid, he thought to himself. The guy was easily at least in his mid-twenties – when did that become a "kid" to him? "I'm just gonna check things over. Was thinking it might be time to shake up the menu a bit."

"Cool – if there is anything I can do…"

"I'll keep it in mind." He forced a smile past the headache. "Now get back to work before your boss finds out you're wasting time out here."

 _TWO WEEKS LATER_

This couldn't be happening now. He was not going to have an attack in the middle of a job – his last job. This was not happening. But it was. The pain radiated through his head like a sharp blade, followed by the seizure. He forced himself to be still, not to shake as if he'd be caught in an 8.9 earthquake. Just keep it together a couple more minutes he kept telling himself. Get them clear and deal with the fall out later. He was too focused on control to hear the security guard until it was almost too late. At the last possible instant he saw the shadow the man cast and swung his arm to catch him across the throat. The guard dropped like a stone, and Eliot almost followed as the pain stabbed again.

"Hurry up Hardison, security is moving in."

"I'm moving as fast as I can here. Stall them."

Sure, easy. No problem. If he could stand up he could stall them. If he could stay standing he could stop them. He turned to lean against the wall. If anyone asked, he was keeping his back covered and watching for someone approaching. No need for them to know the truth; to know he needed the support to stay upright. The light was torturing his eyes, but closing the world out, even for a few seconds, was just not an option. Then he heard what he needed to hear, the sound of Hardison on the stairs. It was – yes – distinctive. Pushing himself off the wall, he made quick contact with Parker to confirm she was clear as well. She responded she was already waiting in the van, and what was taking them so long. He pushed Hardison ahead of him through the door. He could hear more security guards on their way, but fortunately a little too slow to be of any concern.

As promised, Parker had the van ready for them at the curb, and they were clear of the site in seconds. As long has Hardison remained distracted by Parker's driving, Eliot was in the clear. He leaned back, trying to stay out of their direct line of site. So far, it was working. Hardison was too focused on trying to hold on for dear life as Parker whipped Lucille around a sharp corner.

"Damn girl, slow it down some. 4 wheels on the ground is perfectly acceptable for a van. Back me up on this Eliot." When he got no response, he chose to use the silence to further his argument. "See girl, you've managed to leave Eliot speechless. Do you know what it takes to scare Eliot? You're gonna have him trembling in his boots in a minute." He turned to see if he had incurred the wrath of the hitter and was stunned to see his comment fulfilled. While not exactly trembling in his boots, Eliot definitely was shaking. His head was down with his hands covering his eyes, and he looked as pale as a sheet.

"What's wrong man? You hurt? What happened? Eliot talk to me. Eliot, talk to me or Parker heads to the nearest ER. Eliot?"

The hitter held up one shaky hand briefly. "Shut up Hardison – I'm fine. No hospital. Just need to catch my breath. Parker, slow down dammit."

"What's the matter Eliot? You hit your head again? Vertigo? What?"

"Hardison, drop it. I just need a minute to regroup. I'll be fine if the damn van stops rocking."

Parker slowed to a manageable speed and stability. It wasn't enough, but it did help him keep up the act a little better. A few minutes later he thought he was able to pull off being OK well enough to fool the others. The act lasted until they got to the office, and he had to get out of the van. The bright sun, the cessation of movement, and the exhaustion of the day caught up to him. As he stepped out, he felt his knees buckle. He reached back for support, but everything began spinning around him. Hardison saw him falling out of the corner of his eye and was able to catch him before he actually hit the ground. Parker grabbed for him as well, but he quickly shook them both off.

"Don't even try to say it – you're not fine."

"Yeah – I am. I just need some rest." Having found his footing he stormed away so they wouldn't be able to question him further. Had to get away from them before they started asking too many questions. Before they got an idea of how bad things were.

 ** _TBC_**


	2. Chapter 2

"Hardison, can you check something out for me?"

"Sure – what do you need? Parker, where'd you get this?" he asked as she passed over a bottle of pills. Looking at what was left of the prescription label he freaked. "Are you crazy? You picked Eliot's pocket? Do you have a death wish? And now you've made me an accomplice. He'll kill us both."

"Who will kill you, and why? Just want to know for the police report." Nate entered to hear the end of the hacker's panic attack.

"Parker stole pills – from Eliot!"

"Eliot has pills? What for?"

"Uh – Nate. She STOLE pills. From EL-I-OT. We need to be making an escape plan."

"Hardison – what are they?"

"Hang on…OK, not even going to try to pronounce that. They're – they're pain killers. Serious heavy duty pain killers. Makes Oxy look like an aspirin. What the hell is Eliot doing with them? Doctor's name is scratched off, along with half the label. Where do you think he got them?"

"More importantly, why did he get them?"

"Nate – I know what you're thinking. Come on man. No way."

"Give me another explanation. He had these in his pocket."

"Eliot is not doing drugs. No way. This is legit. It has to be. He just wouldn't."

"I'm not saying it was deliberate Hardison. But if he started something for those headaches, well maybe it got out of hand."

"The shaking, the weakness." Parker almost whispered, looking to Hardison. "He was in withdrawal? Oh God Hardison. What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean shaking and weakness? When did this happen?"

"Today. He could hardly stand up. And he's been acting weird."

Parker's definition of weird was a wide open field, but thinking back of the last couple of weeks, Nate had a pretty good idea of what she meant. Even by Spencer standards, Eliot had been quiet. When not working, he was on his own, either in the kitchen or – well, now that he thought about it, Nate had no idea where Eliot was spending his time.

"Hold up." Hardison held a hand up to try to silence the others. "Anybody here willing to give him the benefit of the doubt? This is Eliot. Don't you think we owe it to him to ask what's going on before we check him into rehab? He'd do it for us." He looked pointedly at Nate.

"Fine. We ask, but you better be ready for answers you don't want to hear."

Eliot finally stopped moving when he got to a coffee shop about a half mile away. He couldn't hear himself think, the blood was pounding in his head. He had to sit before he fell. The shaking was worse. Hell, it was another damn seizure. He rarely had two in one day, and never this close together. And those meds were at home. He knew this was going to make headache worse, and the last thing he wanted was another pain pill. He'd been able to fight through without one today, and desperately wanted to keep that going. Maybe half a pill. His doctor had said not to reduce the meds, but he'd ignored that order from the beginning, so another change was no big deal. Supposed to take two pills! He could hardly think straight after one, and he was supposed to take two? Not happening. Besides, he had plans for the surplus.

The more he fought to control the trembling, the sharper the pain became. He knew it would ease if he just surrendered to it, but he had enough trouble doing that in the privacy of his home. No way was he going to put on a show in public. So he held on until he could feel himself settling. When he could focus on moving without quivering, he reached in for the bottle, ready to surrender. Nothing. He was sure it had been in that pocket. Quietly, but frantically, he began checking the other pockets. Nope. No pills. He'd had them. He'd felt them earlier when he fleetingly thought about them when the first seizure started. Maybe he'd lost them then, when they were running out. Then he remembered Parker helping him when he stumbled and he knew instantly what had happened.

Shit – she had them. She'd picked his pocket. He should be angry. Hell – he should be furious. And he was. But overpowering that was fear. They knew. They would all know. There was no way she'd done this without intending to follow through on it, and that meant asking Hardison to research the pills. And that meant Nate would find out. Nate always found out. Now what? It was over. He couldn't go back. Couldn't face them now. They'd have questions; they wouldn't stop till they knew everything. He couldn't tell them. Couldn't ask them to deal with this. Couldn't ask Nate to deal with this.

He forced himself to slow his breathing down, hoping that would in turn mitigate some of the pain. He'd have to accelerate the schedule. He left the coffee shop. If he hurried, there would still be time to go home and pick up a few things he needed to take with him. They'd be waiting for him to come back to the office, so anything there would have to be left behind. That wasn't an issue. There was nothing he'd need. This wouldn't be the first time he'd disappeared in a hurry, leaving no hints as to his next destination. It would be harder this time, but he really only needed a couple of days at most. Just a few loose ends to tie up. Hardison was much better at tracking than any previous hunters had been, even if his motives were less lethal. He'd have to go off the grid to keep hidden from the hacker. And these people knew him better than anyone else did. They'd be able to second guess him. Nate especially seemed to have a way inside his head that was, to say the least, unnerving.

It was harder for another reason too. He didn't want to leave. More than anything he wanted to turn to them now. He hadn't needed anyone for a long time, and even if he had, it wasn't an option for him in the past. Now, it was. And now, he couldn't do it. Because the very reason he needed them most was the same reason he couldn't ask for their help. He would never hurt them like that.

He knew they'd be pissed at him. Hopefully enough to hate him. That would make everything easier. At least a little. Knowing them, they'd turn this upside down. They'd rant about how dare he be noble and why did he put them first. They'd be wrong, although they'd never know. He wasn't noble – he was a coward. He couldn't cope with watching them handle this. Watching the pain in Parker's eyes as she tried to understand what was happening. Watching Hardison try to find a way to help, and fail. Watching Sophie try to comfort him, be brave for him. And watching Nate. Watching Nate drag up old memories, and suffer through not just this but the barely buried past. Eliot did not have the courage to let his friends help him, and that was almost as hard to accept as the inevitability of his fate.

He fumbled with his keys as he entered his house for the last time. This wouldn't take long. He never packed much for travel, and this was not going to be a long trip. He headed to his cash stash before realizing he really needed nothing more than he had is his wallet now. That would be more than enough for gas, and maybe a couple for meals, not that he had any appetite anymore. No credit cards. Hardison would find those in a heartbeat. He looked quickly to his weapons collection. Probably wouldn't be needing them, but he never felt fully dressed without something on him. Lastly, he went to the safe behind the hidden panel. He took out the letter he'd prepared for Nate, and left it where it would be easily found. Then he took out the pills. Corticosteroids for the swelling, which seemed to have no effect. He tossed them into the garbage. Anti-seizure meds, which were becoming less and less useful every day. He pocketed a couple, just in case, and the rest joined the steroids. He picked up the pain pills. Powerful pills that had minimal benefits. Of course, if he'd been taking them the way he should, they might have helped. But then he wouldn't have his supply. He had more than enough saved up now. They were plan B.

He opened the bottle and emptied it into his hand. It would be easier than leaving. Faster. And much neater that what he had in mind. But the risk was too great. Not that he would be found in time. He knew if he swallowed all of these, nothing would help. But he didn't want Parker to be the one to find him. And it would be her. Sooner or later, likely sooner now, they'd check out his house. Even with the security changed, it wouldn't take long for Parker to find her way in. She'd be the first in, and she'd be alone when she saw him. There was simply no power on earth that could make him do that to her. To any of them.

He had in mind the open road. When he was ready, it would take just a few hours to ride up into the mountains on his Harley. Shame to wreck a good bike like that, but it was the best option. Get the speed up as high as he could, and head for a hairpin curve. With luck, he'd never be found. But just in case that option fell through - if he couldn't ride, he'd have the pills. His back-up plan. Always best to have a back-up plan.

He reached for the bottle to replace the pills when the seizure hit with no warning. Dropping to his knees he brought his hands to his head. Pills scattered across the floor as Eliot fell forward, losing consciousness, thinking as it went dark that this was not supposed to be happening.

"Why would he change his security system? Was there a problem Hardison?" Nate paced on the sidewalk. He hated being stymied by anything when he had a goal in mind. And not being able to get into Eliot's house was beyond frustrating. "What is he trying to hide?"

"He updates his security all the time. Doesn't mean he'd hiding anything Nate." Sophie wasn't willing to accept there was anything troublesome going on. Hardison agreed. "He never talks about stuff like that unless he's warning us."

"Chill Nate. I'll have us inside in about 10 seconds." Parker's voice buzzed in their ears as she fidgeted with the back door. True to her word, seconds later they heard "gotcha" followed by the sound of a door opening. "Give me a minute to get up front. Everything looks normal. Oh – that's weird. There's a letter for you on the table Nate."

"Parker, get up here and let us in."

"Relax. Really Nate, you have to learn to… ELIOT. Oh God, Eliot what have you done? NO, No, no!"

"Parker – Parker what's going on. Parker - open the door"

Hardison had given up on waiting and bolted to the back, charging in. A few steps inside and he slammed to a stop, seeing Parker leaning over a body on the floor. He fought the impulse to run to her, reluctantly detouring to let Nate and Sophie in before charging back to her side. By the time he was back, she held Eliot's head in her lap, softly whispering his name.

Nate reached for his arm, praying to find a pulse and almost sobbed when he was rewarded with a faint beat. He could see the pills on the floor, and tried to calculate a way 2 plus 2 would not equal 4. He could hear Sophie talking to the 911 operator. She wasn't saying what had happened, only that they needed an ambulance. She refused to say overdose, refused to say suicide.

None of them moved until they heard the paramedics entering the room. Hardison gently pulled Parker away, giving them room to work. He looked at Nate, his eyes asking the question he couldn't bring himself to voice.

"I don't know Hardison – I just don't know." Nate could feel Sophie clinging to him. They were all numb, all disoriented by the day. Nothing fit, nothing made sense. And now, watching Eliot being loaded onto a stretcher, they were completely at a loss as to what to do next. Taking a deep breath and almost imperceptibly stiffening his body, Nate tried to take charge.

"OK. Hardison, I gave them one of his old ID's so you need to make sure it's update. Parker, where is the letter you were talking about." No one moved. "Hardison!" The hacker looked up. "Fix his ID."

"Why?"

"Why? Because he… because we…" He couldn't really say. "Because it's what we do. We are going to assume that this is all going to make sense in a little while, and until it does, we act like it does. Understood?"

Parker didn't move, but pointed to the table. "There's the letter." Sophie stepped over to pick it up, and resisted the temptation to open it herself. Handing it to Nate, she took Parker by the arm and started to lead her out. "You guys sort things out here. We'll be at the hospital. Eliot won't want to be alone when he wakes up."

The younger woman looked at her. "When?"

"Damn straight. I have a few things to say to him, and he is not going to avoid hearing them." Parker smiled slightly, allowing herself a moment to believe that Sophie's willpower could make just about anything happen.

Hardison pulled out his phone and started typing. Once Nate gave him Eliot's current alias, it took no time to update everything needed to keep the Hitter's identity protected, while giving the doctors what they would need to know. When he looked up, he saw Nate staring at the letter, white as a ghost and barely able to hold himself up. He was afraid to ask, but did.

"What kind of trouble was – is – he in?"

"He's dying. Even without this, before this – Shit Hardison. He's dying."

 ** _TBC_**


	3. Chapter 3

The team huddled in a corner of the waiting room. Try as they might, they couldn't think of anything they could be doing to stay busy, stay occupied. All they could do was wait.

A very earnest young resident had spoken to them about an hour earlier, telling them Eliot was still unconscious, but continued to breathe on his own. Whatever had knocked him out, it wasn't an overdose. There were small amounts of painkillers in his system, but nothing near lethal. There was a collective sigh of relief at that bit of news. All the tests weren't in so for the moment the efforts were focused on stabilizing him. When Nate showed him the note and the pills he'd retrieved from the trash, everything changed. The doctor quickly disappeared behind the treatment room doors, mumbling to himself something about knowing all the facts, and the team went back to waiting.

Nate had showed them the note when he'd arrived. It was short – painfully so. And straight to the point, like the man who'd written it.

 _I told you a few weeks ago that it wasn't a concussion Nate. What I didn't tell you was what is was. A tumor. Inoperable, and too big to do much else about. And yes Sophie, I got a couple of opinions on this. Tried a few things, but nothing worked. Nothing could. I'm not sticking around to see this through. I'm sorry, but I've had enough with pain and misery in my life, and I ain't going out that way. I know you all are going to hate me for copping out, but I can't change that. The cards in the envelope are lawyers and such to handle everything. It's been a good ride – better than I deserved. Take care of each other._

"So he knew for weeks, and said nothing?" Sophie was having trouble understanding how all of this could have been going on without anyone knowing. It made no sense. Did they really pay so little attention to Eliot, to his health, that something like this could go on without anyone having a clue?

"Ah man, you know Eliot. Nobody is supposed to fuss about him. Nobody is supposed to pay attention. He likes it that way." Hardison was trying to sound as if he accepted this, but the reality was tearing him up inside. He thought Eliot was his friend. His best friend, although he would never embarrass the Hitter by voicing such a concept. Eliot's friends were soldiers, hitters, tough guys. Geeks like Hardison, while they might one day rule the world, were not part of the warrior kingdom, outside of the role-playing world. So how could he let his friend suffer like this? How could he not have known what Eliot was going through? And how did it get to the point that Eliot almost died? Alone.

Parker's voice was soft and sad. "I don't think he likes it that way. I think he just accepts it that way. I think maybe he's like me. Not really sure how to love anyone. I'm learning." She looked quickly at Hardison, then away again. "I think Eliot knew, and then forgot. Maybe he didn't want to learn again."

Sophie never ceased to be surprised by the insights Parker had. Out of the mouths of babes… She reached over and took the young woman's hand. "Well then we use the time we have left to make him learn. Make him realize he has no choice in the matter." Parker bit her lip and nodded.

They stayed seated quietly, saying nothing after the resident left them, lost in their own worlds, with their own regrets. It was only when Nate stood that they realized a doctor was coming toward them. His grim face brought a wave of trepidation to the group.

"Would any of you be able to tell me the name of your friend's doctor?"

"Sorry – you have to understand Eliot is an extremely private person. He doesn't like to burden others, so he shares very little."

The doctor was looking down at the chart he held. "Well, I would very much like to find this quack and have his license yanked." When he got no response, he glanced up to see four puzzled and somewhat stunned faces looking at him. "Your friend is – or at least was – perfectly healthy. There is no tumor, and no indication there ever was. The scan shows he has had more concussions than anyone I've ever encountered, which may factor into why the medications affected him the way they did. But tumor – not a trace."

Nate had never fainted in his life. He'd been knocked out, and had drunk himself into a stupor on numerous occasion, but right now he had the distinct impression he was about to faint. Only Sophie hugging the life out of him seemed to be keeping him on his feet. He focused long enough to find his voice, and wasn't at all surprised to hear how much it shook as he spoke.

"So – not dying?"

The doctor smiled for the first time. "I'm sorry – I should have said that right away. Eliot is weak, and he has been through a great deal in the last few weeks, certainly physically and I'm sure emotionally. But, in time, he'll be fine."

Waves of emotions moved over all of them. Parker leaned into Hardison, slumping slightly in limp relief. He was shaking so much he could only barely support her. Sophie had yet to let go of Nate, but the release of tension did loosen her grip. As the initial shock wore off Nate's euphoria made an abrupt turn to anger.

"How? How could anyone make that mistake?"

"I don't know that any even moderately competent physician could. And according to what the note said, there was a corroborating diagnosis. I simply cannot understand that."

"Doc – " it appeared Hardison too had regained the ability to speak, breathless as it was – "he was sick. Weak. The headaches, the pain, the shaking?"

"The drugs he was taking were exactly the right pills for someone who does have the type of tumour Eliot was supposedly suffering from. They were disastrous for a healthy man. They induced painful and sometimes violent seizures. The steroids would have altered the brain chemistry as well, and add pain pills to the mix –well the combination was damn near fatal. If he'd been taking the pain killers at the prescribed rate it would have killed him. Lucky for him he it looks like he was holding back, although why he'd do that, given how much he must have been hurting, is a mystery." They didn't respond to his unasked question. Earlier in the day they had all reached the same conclusion. The collection of pills represented Eliot's determination not to subject himself to excessive effects of the medication. There would be no other reason he would be hoarding a narcotic of that potency. Any notion that he had alternative plans for the pills was a subject not worthy of further consideration. Denial was a powerful tool, and they intended to take full advantage of it, at least for the moment. Now, in the new reality, they each silently vowed to have a long chat with Eliot when he was strong enough.

Sophie untangled herself from Nate and pulled herself together. "Can we see him? Does he know he's ok?"

"He's still unconscious. The last seizure was quite severe. It's a good thing you found him when you did. He needs the rest his body is giving him now. We've introduced some medications to counteract those still in his system, and the result is keeping him in basically a medical coma. He should be fine in a little while. He'll be tired, and it is going to take a bit of time to get his strength back and to clear all of this from him, but I see no reason at this time there shouldn't be a full recovery. Once we get his settled into a room you are welcome to stay with him. It will likely be some time before wakes up, but I think it would be in his best interest to have at least one of you there when he does." Looking at them, and the clear relief evident on each face, he knew his patient was not going to be lacking for support.

Sophie sat by the bed watching Eliot sleep. He'd come closer to waking up a couple of times today, but still was not with them. He was still dealing with drugs in his system that would take time to clear. The expert advice was to keep him mildly sedated to give his body a chance to heal a bit more. If he fought to wake up he would, the sedation wasn't that strong. But given everything he'd been through, and everything he thought he was still going through, it was likely he'd sleep at least another day. And while he slept, at least one member of his team – his family – stayed at his side.

Hardison was back at the office, searching under every rock he could find for leads on who had done this. Parker started the quest by breaking back into Eliot's place and finding everything she could that might tie back to the phony physician. There wasn't much; a couple of pill bottles with no pharmacy name and some medical reports shoved into a drawer. She had taken her meager findings back to Hardison, handing them to him with the command "find him so I can hurt him." He didn't bother to try to dissuade her. She stood behind him for the first hour of his search, then, bored with the delay, started planning her revenge. He heard her mumbling about pliers, cattle-prods and branding irons. Hardison didn't ask what she had in mind. He really wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Nate had stayed with Sophie by Eliot's side for a while. Neither spoke – there really was no need. The reality of how close they had come to disaster did not need to be discussed. She could tell the moment he started formulating a plan. The subtle shift in the tilt of his head. The cessation of his nervous fidgeting. The slight gleam that came to his very tired eyes. How he could be forming a plan when they had so little to go on was beyond her grasp, but she took comfort in the fact that when the target was identified, it would already be too late for him to get away.

Saying only that he had some calls to make and a few things to arrange, Nate rose and started for the door. He turned back, looking once more at the bed, and allowing a small smile to pass over his face. He placed a hand on Sophie's shoulder for a minute, and after a gentle comforting squeeze, headed out.

A few minutes later Sophie put down the magazine she'd been reading without any attention. She quietly pulled her chair closer to the bed and reached out to brush some stray hairs from Eliot's face.

"Do you have any idea how angry I am with you Eliot? No? Well, I'm almost as mad at you as I am disappointed in us. How did we not see this? How did you get so damn good at keeping everything from us? When you get out of here we are going to have a long, long chat about priorities." She felt him move slightly under her hand. A small turn of his head, a deep breath and sigh, then back into his imposed sleep.

"That's OK Eliot. There's no rush. We have all the time in the world."

 ** _TBC_**


	4. Chapter 4

By evening Nate, Sophie and Parker had settled in with Eliot at the hospital, while Hardison continued to research his way to the truth back in the office. They sat away from the bed to try to avoid disturbing the patient, and listened to Hardison's report.

He was cursing much more than anyone was used to hearing. The mutterings and expletives came through the earbuds loud and clear, and had the situation not been so emotional, they would have all been amused by the creativity of the cursing.

"I'm gonna find this sonofabitch and feed him his intestines – roasted. I'm gonna slice and dice…"

Nate was the first to snap. "Enough Hardison. Stop channeling Eliot's master chef mode and start telling us why you're planning a barbeque. And more importantly – who the victim will be."

"I'm still workin' on the 'who', but I'm close. The why? Damn Nate, he screwed with Eliot so bad. These medical reports…Shit." They gave him a minute to refocus, giving themselves time to prepare for whatever it was he had to say.

"There are four so called evaluations here, all saying the same thing. And I do mean the same thing. When I run a comparison, the content is almost identical, just shuffled around to hide that little fact."

"Can you break it down for us?"

"Sure – in a sentence. Eliot was told he has a large brain tumor in an inoperable location and too advance to respond to treatment. The remaining 8 to 10 weeks of his life would be filled with rapidly advancing seizures, pain, blindness and paralysis before he finally died in agony." He fought to unclench his jaw. "So any y'all got a problem with my killing this SOB?"

"You'll have to get in line." Sophie rarely had such steel in her voice.

"I get to hurt him first – I called dibs."

Nate's stomach churned as he processed the same emotions. This guy had hurt Eliot in a way no one had been able to do before, and there was no doubt in his mind that retribution was due. He also knew exactly how Eliot would react if he could hear what was being said. Before he could comment, Hardison resumed.

"The pills he was being given would have kept him weak and confused, as well as adding to his symptoms. The blood test from the hospital show a mess of other stuff in him too including blood pressure meds, stuff for migraines – all kinds of crap. Haven't figured out where that came from."

"Could that have been giving him the headaches in the first place?"

"You'll have to ask someone there, but yeah, could be. I think that was listed as a side effect. Put it all together and who knows what it was doin' to him. What are you thinking Nate?"

"This had to start somewhere. Something made him sick enough to go to a doctor and start this mess. So what was it?"

"Us." Parker said quietly. "We told him he had to go. We started this."

"No, we were pawns, but we didn't start it. The headaches did. And from what Hardison found out, and what the doc told us, they were every bit as fabricated as the rest of this."

"Anybody remember who told him about the clinic? Who guided him in the web?"

There was silence for a moment as they tried to remember the conversation, until Sophie dredged up the name. "Kevin."

"Our Kevin? From the kitchen Kevin? That's nuts man. He's been doing everything he could to help out over the last little while. In fact, he was in here a while ago asking… Damn. Not asking, he was checking up, wasn't he? That dirty little bastard."

Nate could hear the hacker making a move. "No, stay put Hardison. We can't tip our hand yet. DO NOT scare him off. I'm betting he's just a player in this game, and we need the mastermind. He's our link. Hardison, are you listening?" Nate was on his feet as if he could stop the charge from long distance. He calmed when he heard Hardison stop. "What did you tell him when he came up?" If he'd said too much, odds were Kevin was already long gone.

"Not much. I was kind of busy, and seriously pissed off at the time, so I think I said Eliot was in the hospital. Didn't give details. And he probably figured from my mood that things were bad."

"OK – can you go down there and stay in character, or do I need to send Sophie home?" When he got no response, he figured he should rephrase that. "Hardison I need you to convince them Eliot is in a coma and dying. Nothing anyone can do. Do not resuscitate. The whole deal. Sell it, but don't oversell it. We have to make sure Kevin sticks around. I'm guessing if he thinks he's safe he'll want to see this to the end."

"I won't screw this up – it's too damned important. But what if you're wrong Nate – if it's someone else?"

Sophie answered for him. "Doesn't matter. It has to be someone inside to be able to have such close access, so anything we say down there will help the cause. Hardison, you have to stay focused. For Eliot."

Hardison took a deep breath and calmly walked through the Pub to the kitchen. He almost lost it when he saw Kevin prepping for the dinner crowd. "Guys – I need your attention for a minute. Got bad news. Eliot's in the hospital and – well things don't look good. I'm gonna respect his privacy here and not say much more, but if you got any prayers in you, maybe you could spare one or two for him." He turned and left quickly, not trusting himself to stay in control. It wasn't just that the man likely responsible for this was right in front of him that was causing the sense of dread. It was the reality of how close his comments had come to being the truth. They had come way too close this time.

"That was perfect." Parker's praise immediately lifted his mood. "Now all you have to do is find the doctor, figure out who hired him, and find that guy. Then we can take them all down."

"Gee – is that all you want me to do. No sweat – have it ready before dinner."

Nate let out a silent sigh of relief. Parker was right – that had been pretty close to perfect. But just as importantly, the team was starting to relax, to tease each other again. At least is was the first step in the right direction.


	5. Chapter 5

He knew before he opened his eyes where he was. Hospitals had a very distinctive sound…and smell. He didn't know what had gone wrong, but this definitely was not supposed to happen. The last thing he remembered was getting ready to leave home, getting ready to leave everything. Then he remembered the pain, and nothing else. Obviously, he'd never made it out of the house. They'd found him. Damn, probably Parker had found him. Every scenario he'd set out to avoid had clearly hit him in the face.

They were here. Waiting. They must have heard the change is his breathing because he could hear them moving closer. He prepared himself for the looks they would give him, the pain on their faces, the sadness in their eyes. He so badly did not want to do this, but could see no choice in matter. With a silent sigh he opened his eyes, and saw four grinning faces.

"Welcome back Sparky – that was one hell of a nap."

"You've been out for almost two days Eliot – try to move slowly. You're bound to be a bit stiff."

Nate and Hardison hadn't spoken, both still grinning. Nate tried to switch to a serious look, but couldn't seem to hold it. He did offer some ice chips, which were gratefully accepted.

Eliot was still silent, and extremely confused. This had to be a drug induced hallucination of some kind. He didn't remember taking the pills, but he must have. Nothing else explained this. Couldn't be real. If this was real they'd be sad, or pissed, or anything other than obnoxiously cheerful. Finally he heard from Nate.

"No Eliot, you are not dreaming. Yes, you are in a hospital. You had a seizure. Or should I say another seizure. This one was bad. Extremely bad." At last the smile slipped of his face. "We thought we were too late."

"Clearly, we were wrong!" Sophie took over the story as Nate took a minute to regroup. "We were able to get you here in time."

"In time for what? To postpone the inevitable a few more days! Thanks so much guys. Why the hell didn't you just let it go?" The outburst was exhausting, and he regretted it almost immediately.

"You mean let YOU go. That's not happening Eliot." Hardison rarely glared, but when he chose to it could be remarkably effective.

"Yeah Hardison, it is. You must know that by now."

"Uh-uh Sparky. We know something you don't know."

This was all too weird. Parker was teasing him? Hardison was mad at him? Nobody looked particularly grief stricken either. "What the hell is going on?"

Nate silenced the team with a look. He stepped up to the bed, making sure he had eye contact with its occupant. "It was a con Eliot. We still haven't figured out why, or who's behind it, but it was one huge, intricate, brilliantly planned and seriously disturbed con. You're not sick Eliot. You're not dying."

They'd all lost their minds. Denial was one thing, but this was crazy. He propped himself on his elbows, shrugging off their effort to keep him lying still. "Nate, I saw the x-rays. The reports.

"Come on Eliot , you know as well as any of us how easy it is to fake x-rays and reports.

"I know how I feel Sophie. What I've been going through. You trying to tell me I imagined all of that. This isn't some of your neuro-linguistic crap. Trust me – this is hell."

"We know Eliot, and we will be having a discussion about all of that soon, but not now. Someone was drugging you. Making you sick. The more pills they gave you, the sicker you got."

"That's 'cause the tumor is getting worse."

"No tumor Eliot. It was all the pills."

Eliot went very quiet. This was too much to process. Too much to believe. He looked at them. There was no mistaking the looks they gave back. They meant it - he wasn't dying. He dropped back to the bed, feeling himself starting to hyperventilate. He was aware that Sophie grasped his hand, while Parker brushed the hair back from his face.

"Take it slow Eliot. Easy. Calm down. Good. That's better." He wasn't sure, but from the encouragement they were giving him he figured he must be breathing again. He closed his eyes to collect himself, and opened them to again see four grins.

"You're serious?"

Hardison couldn't resist; "Dead serious." Eliot growled at him, without meaning it in the least.

He had dozens of questions but his brain wasn't letting him sort them out. The shock, physical and emotional, was catching up him. He turned to the one man who might be able to provide some kind of explanation. "Nate?" The single word spoke volumes of his confusion, anger and fear.

"You need to get some rest Eliot. We'll explain later."

"No – now. I need to know now." There were times, they had learned over the years, that you could ignore Eliot or decide not take him seriously, and there would be no consequences. Then there were times that it was best for all concerned to yield to his wishes. This was such a moment.

"OK – but the minute you get tired or overwhelmed, we stop." Reluctantly, Eliot nodded agreement. "OK, get comfortable, this may take a bit of time."

Eliot settled back on the pillow while Nate pulled his chair a bit closer to the bed. The others found spots around the room where they could keep a close watch on their hitter. They knew this wasn't going to be easy for him to hear. Nate began the narrative.

"Once your Doctor – the one here at the hospital – filled us in on your real condition, and once we were sure you were going to be OK we went to work. Parker went back to your place for information on the fraud. She didn't find much. Pill bottles had no pharmacy or doctor's name."

"He gave them to me himself. Said it would be easier on me."

"Took care of the consultations for second opinions too, didn't he? Sent you the reports so you wouldn't have to meet with all the doctors." When Eliot nodded Nate continued. "We found – Parker found – the reports at your place. How carefully did you read them?"

"Do I look like I have a medical degree? I read the prognosis. The rest of the stuff was technical crap." He paused for a moment, then his face fell. "Which of course was their idea. Keep it too confusing. Keep the mark off balance. God – I was an idiot!"

"No," Nate corrected him, "you were set up brilliantly. The first thing they did was put you off your game. You've got a mix of drugs in your system designed to make you feel like death warmed over. Aside from the pain, they kept you from sleeping properly and affected your ability to concentrate. As for the reports… well even if you had read them you might not have seen it. Hardison had to run a computer program on them to find the flaws, the similarities. These guys were good. Our kind of good."

"Whoever did this knows you well Eliot. They knew you wouldn't come to us." The reprimand was evident in Sophie's tone. "They knew you would be the tough guy who could handle it all by himself."

"Take it easy Sophie – he feels bad enough."

She looked at Parker and, in deference to the scowl she got in return, backed off. At least for the moment.

"You said fraud. So, not a doctor out to get me? What did you find out?"

Hardison took over. "I searched every medical database known to mankind. Nothing – your guy does not exist. You weren't the only one he fooled though. The clinic you found him at fell for the credentials as well. They were more than a little mortified, but there wasn't much damage 'cause he quit there the day after your diagnosis."

"Well yeah. I was seeing him at his office. No need to risk exposure at the clinic after that. If I'd asked, he woulda said he didn't have the time to be there anymore. Where is he now?"

"Gone. Vanished. We're looking, but there isn't much to go on Eliot. Is there anything he said to you during any visits that might be a clue – a hint?"

"We weren't exactly chatting while I was there Nate." Eliot was quiet for a minute and the others gave him time. "How did he know I'd go to the clinic?"

"Kevin."

"Our Kevin? From the Pub?"

"That's what I said." Hardison grinned, but getting no matching grin, he sat back quietly again.

"Yeah – he was the guy who told you about the clinic in the first place right?" Eliot nodded, feeling shell-shocked by all of this. "Would he have had the opportunity to be drugging you – maybe in the food?"

"I don't think so. Be too iffy to slip something in the kitchen. Too many people around, testing things. And you don't sample enough for a poison to work. Generally fix my own meals, and yours, so you guys woulda been sick too."

"OK. Why? What's he got against you?"

"Ya got me. I've never seen him before. Didn't hire him either. Water!"

Startled, Parker grabbed a glass to hand to him.

"No Parker, thanks. Not what I meant. Kevin was always giving me a bottle of water – telling me I looked like I needed it. Shit, he played me perfectly. Nate…" he left the sentence hanging. He really had no idea what to say next. What to do next.

"OK – that's it for tonight." He cut of objections before they could start. "Look – it's been a, well difficult, couple of days. We all need a bit of time to adjust here. So let's leave it for the night. You need sleep, and we need to be fresh to figure out the next step plan."

"Where are my clothes?"

"Forget it. You are not coming home tonight. Eliot, you almost died." Sophie could not believe the stubborn look she saw in his eyes, and was determined to match it with her own.

"What do you mean? You just finished telling me I was fine."

"No, we said you don't have a tumor, and you aren't going to die. Doesn't mean you weren't sick."

Parker perched on the side of his bed. "You were in bad shape. The crap they were giving you – they were trying to kill you. Just slow and evil like. You scared the hell out of us Eliot. When I saw you on the floor…" The look on her face spoke much louder than the words, and Eliot gently took her hand in his.

"that was the last thing I wanted Parker. That's why I was leaving. Why I tried to – well. I never meant to do that to you – to any of you. Was trying to do just the opposite, but I guess that didn't work either."

"Thank God." Sophie said under her breath. She knew, they all did, what his plan had been, and while they were at a conscious level denying it for now, sooner or later the repercussions would have to be dealt with.

Acting as if he hadn't heard Sophie, Eliot quietly submitted to their demand, and settle back onto the pillows. "Fine – but tomorrow I'm outta here, with our without your approval."

"With your gown flapping in the breeze?" Nate asked.

The glare was the first sign they'd had the Eliot really was going to be alright.

 _ **TBC**_


	6. Chapter 6

He was sitting up in bed when they arrived the next day. Seeing no one carrying clothing, he immediately went into hitter mode, but was cut off before he could voice his displeasure.

"Eliot, you can't come home. We have to be sure everyone thinks you are at death's door, and that means you stay here."

"Find me some place else. I ain't staying here. The nurses are all a bunch of sadists! Waking me up to give me sleeping pills. Taking enough blood out of me to kill me. I am NOT staying here. What?" He growled the last word in Hardison's direction in response to the grinning face.

"Nothing man – just real good to hear you back in such fine form!"

"Give me 5 minutes with Kevin and you can SEE me in fine form."

Nate sighed deeply. As much as he was please do have Eliot back, he was a lot easier to deal with when he was unconscious.

"Eliot, 'we are working on it. Hardison, show him the picture." A moment later a photo appeared on the hackers tablet, followed by a deep low growl from Eliot. "I take it you know him?"

"Yeah – that's Michelson. Can I beat on him for a while, or is he off limits too?"

"You're a little too late. His body was found in his car – apparent suicide." Hardison brought up the news article. "Guys bio says he was a doctor, which I guess explains why he was able to fool…" an evil eye from Eliot and a warning whisper from Parker inspired a change in his wording, "convince you that he was on the up and up. You and a lot of other folk. Took a bit of digging into some ancient history to discover he'd had his license revoked about 8 years ago. Seems he had this habit of prescribing pills for non-existent patients amoung other things." He left the comment hanging in response to a look from Nate.

"I'm not so far out of it that I can't tell when you're lyin' Hardison."

"He's not lying, strictly speaking. Just not completely forthcoming." Eliot simply stared at the team. "Eliot, you are in no shape to go charging out of here hell bent on revenge. If we tell you this you…"

"IF? What the hell Nate. There's no IF. You get the info and I take care of the problem. That simple."

"No, not simple. Totally not simple Eliot. This one is bad." Eliot looked up at Parker, and was more than surprised to see the look on her face. It might not have been abject terror, but whatever they had discovered had her seriously worried, and yes, a little scared.

"OK – so you don't buy the suicide, which means Kevin killed him to cover his ass. Shit, Nate, you can't keep him around at the Pub. If he gets suspicious…"

"He won't have time too. He's going to be too busy helping us with your funeral. Sophie is going to keep him occupied, and it will always be with others around, so no danger."

The hitter seethed at his inability to do his job. The thought of any of them in danger without him to stand guard, especially when it was all because of him, was grating on every nerve he had, so much so that it took him a few minutes to recognize he had been diverted from his previous line of questioning.

"So what else do you know about my so called doctor." He rightly assumed Hardison to be the weakest link when it came to succumbing to his intimidation, so the glowering began in earnest. Hardison looked over to Nate, who shrugged and signaled him to go ahead.

"Well, uh, in addition to the prescription issue, uh, the guy was involved with a few other things. You know, less than legal things. With less than legal people. The kind of…

"Dammit Hardison - spit it out. He had ties to organized crime, drug lords? He connect with one of our marks? No, then he would have gone after all of us."

"Going after you does make it going after all of us Eliot. Team? Remember?"

Yeah – yeah. Hardison wouldn't be tripping over his tongue if that was the problem. It's personal and he's afraid of… Oh Shit." He looked at Nate. "You gotta be kidding me?"

"Wish I was."

"How'd he get out of prison? Why didn't we know?"

"He's not out. Moreau is still firmly locked behind bars, and we checked with General Flores. He's had no visitors, no calls, no letters. Solitary confinement as well, no chance he passed the message on through someone else. And the General swears by the men he has on guard. Completely loyal."

"Where Moreau's concerned nothing is impossible."

"But this dead guy connects to him? Which means Kevin connects to him. But how."

"Let's face it Eliot, you were away from Moreau for some time before we went head to head with him. You don't know everyone in his entourage."

"Nobody is that loyal to him. The people around him disappear when the money does. I know the type. I was the type." Sophie was about to correct him when she registered with satisfaction that he had used "was" and not "am". Just maybe he was finally accepting that old behaviour was a part of his past.

"Does Moreau have family – someone wanting to defend the family name?"

"No – not that he ever talked about. I know he had his brother and nephew killed when there was a power struggle."

"How do you know that?" Parker wondered. He just looked at her, not ready to voice his very direct involvement with the project. After a moment in clicked in. "Oh – never mind."

Nate cleared his throat. "So, any theories. There has to be a motive somewhere. Moreau hates all of us and he would know how this would affect us. But who hates you enough to make you the target?"

He closed his eyes, mentally running through a list of people he had pissed off that badly. It was a long list. A depressingly long list. People he'd taken from, people he'd taken down. Family, friends – survivors. There were just too many to consider. But connecting them to Moreau should have narrowed the list. And it did. It narrowed it almost out of existence. He had been low profile on his jobs for the criminal mastermind, since Moreau himself wanted all of the credit. All of the fear that the actions inspired.

"OK – clearly Kevin is our connection." Sophie charged ahead. "What do we know about him?" she asked Hardison.

"Well, for one thing, he doesn't exist. I dug a bit deeper into his references and history, and it was created about 6 months back. Note to self – more attention to background checks on future employees. Nobody out hacks me and gets away with it."

"Anything come up when you enter into your little Black Web world?'

"Dark Net Eliot – pay attention to the details man. Recognition software matches his face on a couple of photos, but nothing to ID him."

"Let me see."

Hardison shrugged –"they won't give you any info, but OK."

"There's something that I know I should be seeing, and it just won't come to me Nate."

"Ease up on yourself. You've been to hell and back. Not that you're really back yet. Look at yourself. Just this conversation has tired you out."

"Ain't tired – just frustrated. And riled. It's right in front of me, and I can't get it. Until I do, you guys are at risk."

"You'll come through for us." Parker looked at him with confidence. "You always do." He appreciated the thought, but remained unconvinced.

A few taps of the keyboard later Hardison turned the device to him. Scrolling through Eliot shook his head, but all the while mumbling to himself. Suddenly he froze. His face lost all colour and had he not been sitting, he would have fallen to the floor.

"Shit – shit. Oh god damn it shit."

"Problem Eliot?"

"I take it you didn't look at all of the pictures Hardison?" The response was a shake of his head. "It's OK – you might not have recognized him anyway – it's not a good shot, and you were underwater most to the time you were around him."

"Kevin was with Moreau? At the pool?"

"No – but this guy was." He turned the tablet back showing a shot of Kevin standing next to Moreau's right hand man. And from the photo it was clear they knew each other – well.

Sophie looked at the shot. "Well, I have no idea who the other guy is, but I'd guess looking at him that he's related to our killer. Same eyes, same cheekbones. You might not notice it if they weren't standing together, especially when you have no reason to make a connection. So this other guy worked for Moreau."

He was suddenly unable to look any of them in the eyes. This was too close to home, too personal. This brought back far too much of the past. Hardison answered for him. "That's the guy that took over Eliot's job when he and Moreau had a parting of the ways; his right hand man."

"So there is someone with loyalty – he's the one after us." Nate looked to Eliot, and seeing the stricken look on the younger man's face realized immediately why Chapman had been dismissed as a possibility. "Except he's not around to be after us, is he?" Eliot said nothing for a moment. The others waited for a response.

"No, he's not. He was - dispatched." The silence in the room was deafening. Eliot's mind was back in the warehouse, looking into the barrel of Chapman's gun, then seeing the stunned look on the man's face as he fell to the shots Eliot fired. The secret of those few moments was about to be secret no more, and his place on the team was about to change.

"OK." Nate spoke to move past the revelation before Eliot could find his voice. "So Kevin is out to avenge the very deserved death of his – what, probably brother? So we let him think he succeeded. He'll want to see Eliot's body – want to gloat.

Sophie joined in. "Just because you like to gloat when you win doesn't mean everyone does. What makes you think he'll check it out?"

"Because he stuck around this long. If he didn't want to see it through, he'd be long gone. No this was personal from motive to method, and he's going to savour his imaged victory. That's when we get him."

Hardison finally caught up with the new normal. "So, we spread the word Eliot died – gonna miss you buddy – and wait for our sucker to show up. Where?"

"Knock it off." Eliot almost whispered, but the tone was a scream. "You gonna pretend I didn't just tell you what I did? Why this happened. I killed Chapman. You gonna make like that never happened."

"Of course it happened Eliot. And if it hadn't, then one or all of us probably wouldn't be here now. I'm guessing you'd certainly be dead, and given the number of times you have saved us since then, I'd say none of us would be around. So, you killed in self-defense and there really is nothing more to say." Sophie forced her voice to stay calm and reasoned. She knew he knew all too well how she felt about guns and violence, and she had to be absolutely certain none of her unease was betrayed in her voice. She did not doubt for a second the truth of what she had just said, but did deeply concern her that Eliot didn't believe it. She stared him down, daring him to challenge her.

"It ain't that simple."

"It is if we say it is." Parker moved in to stand next to him. "We get to make the call on this – at least right for now. If you want to – need to – talk about this then we can later. Right now, there is a job to do. This guy tried to take you out, and that's not allowed."

"So you want to go after him – get even with him?"

"Damn straight" Hardison replied for the group.

"Do you want to become him?" It may have been phrased as a question, but the growling tone made it an accusation. "Cause that's where you're going. He comes after me, so you go after him. That's not happening. I ain't lettin' you become killers."

"Eliot, if you don't calm down you're going to have half the medical staff in the building in here to sedate you. We're not talking about revenge, tempting though it may be. We will find a way to do this through the proper channels."

Sophie was considering options. "Well, having him come in to see the body won't do that. Hell, he'd just be another mourner. Proves nothing."

"She's right Nate. He'll come, see Eliot laid out, celebrate quietly and disappear."

"Easy solution Nate. We don't tell him I died, we let him kill me."

 _ **TBC**_


	7. Chapter 7

A few hours late Nate and Hardison arrived back at the pub, and took their seats at a table near the kitchen. It didn't take long until they had a steady stream of inquiries about Eliot's condition. As Kevin watched people leaving the table with smiles on their faces, he became increasingly curious about what was going on, and after a few minutes approached the duo himself.

"Looks like you're spreading good news?"

"Nothing is definite yet, but yeah – there may be a bit of a miracle going on. Doctors are being – what was the phrase Nate?"

"Cautiously optimistic. Seems the treatment he'd been getting must have been effective. He's still too weak for them to be running a lot of tests, but they think the tumor may be shrinking. It's the only explanation they can come up with for his preliminary scan results. When he's stronger they'll run a bunch more tests to measure and compare results, but – well, we are keeping fingers crossed on this."

"That's great guys. It would be awesome to get him back in the kitchen."

Nate frowned. "Well, it might be a while before that happens. In the first place, there are a ton of tests left. And he's still really weak. The whole ordeal has really taken a lot out of him. They've still got him in intensive care."

Hardison shook his head. "You know, with all the battles he's fought, it's hard to accept that something like this came so close to taking him. Hell, like you said – he's not out of the woods yet. Seems strange to see him laying there so frail and vulnerable." A look from Nate was his clue to tone it down. Overplaying the role was Hardison's weak spot in any con, and this one was far too important to screw up.

"Yeah – but he's tough." Nate reassured him. "I'm sure he'll get past all of this. He has to."

"I better get back to work, but that's great news about Eliot. Can he have any visitors yet?"

"Just family right now, but they are hoping he'll be strong enough soon. We'll let you know, but right now they want him to get as much rest as possible, so even we're banned for the moment. Sophie's staying with him till he goes to sleep and Parker's on her way home to get a bit of sleep herself. It's been a long couple of days." Nate smiled as Kevin turned away. When he was out of sight, Hardison's look changed to pure hatred. "That sucked. It would have been so much more gratifying to punch the S.O.B."

"Yes, but not terribly productive. This will be much more effective in the long run."

Knowing he was right and feeling good about it were two very different things. The scheme had been set to allow the police to monitor Eliot's room and make the arrest when and if Kevin made a move. The best they'd be able to get, if all went according to plan, was a charge of attempted murder. Again, not nearly as satisfying as they would have liked. Still, when Nate considered how this all good have turned out, he was just happy it wasn't going to be a murder charge.

Eliot wasn't particularly pleased with the status of things either. He'd been moved back to intensive care to add credibility to the scenario, and that meant he had to stay in bed and stay still. Not only was neither item high on his list of favourite things, they didn't even show up on it. Of course, it didn't help that Sophie was sitting next to him with a look on her face that clearly said 'we have to talk', which of course meant she had to talk and he had to listen. Whether he wanted to or not. The joy of being a captive audience.

Watching her closely he was able to spot the moment right before she was going to start, and began his own pre-emptive strike.

"Had to do it that way Sophie. It was the only thing that made sense."

"Made sense? It what world did any of this make sense Eliot? How could you think that keeping us in the dark on this, that running away to die on your own, or worse – killing yourself – how could any of that make sense? You can't be telling me you thought we wouldn't care? Please tell my you're past that."

He chuckle softly. "No Soph. I knew you'd care. You'd care too much, and I wasn't gonna watch that happen. Guess you could say I was being selfish."

"Bull. You don't know how to be selfish Eliot. Not on something like this anyway. You were in protector mode again. And don't say it's what you do. I am so sick of that excuse."

He looked away for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain to her something he didn't fully understand himself. "When you were left holding that bomb and ordering us all out of the room – why'd you do that? Why didn't you let me or the others stay and try to help?"

"Totally different Eliot. You could have been killed, and I wasn't going to risk that. I let you do what you could to help, and that was all there was to it."

"So protect us, whatever the cost." She glared at him. "It is the same Sophie. It's not like I thought any of you could do anything to help, and the cost of watching me get sicker by the day – that was too high." She started to speak, but he continued without giving her the opportunity. "What would it have done to Parker to watch me go like that? She watched her brother die, and you wanted me to make her watch me go? And Hardison. He would have gone nuts, trying to figure out something to do. Searching on that damned computer for some ancient remedy or magic potion. And he'd never forgive himself for failing. You – you'd have quietly put up a brave front, trying to strong for everyone, hiding another part of yourself at the same time. I'm not the only one in this team good at burying my feelings." He paused again, feeling emotionally and physically drained, but needing to finish this out.

"And Nate. Shit Sophie – how was I supposed to put Nate through what I thought was going to happen? There is no power on earth that would see me do that. He was not going to sit in the hospital again and watch someone he cared about die by inches." His voice cracked slightly. "I couldn't watch him die with me. I couldn't be responsible for what that would do to him.

Yeah, getting the news that I'd died , or even that I offed myself, was going to suck, but not as much as watching it happen. Actually I kinda hoped you'd all be too busy being pissed off at me." He gave a cockeyed smile to her, that she didn't return.

"What – too pissed off to care? To miss you? To mourn? Well that was pretty stupid Eliot. And don't you think the fact we might not have been able to forgive you was going to make all this worse?"

"Honestly Sophie, I didn't see how things could be much worse."

That caught her off guard. He was right. Nothing was worse than what almost happened. And for the first time since this started, she fully registered what Eliot had been going through. Not just the physical, which clearly had been hell, but the emotional as well. He was leaving them, and couldn't say goodbye. He was protecting them the best way he could, not because he thought they didn't care, but because he knew they did. And he called himself selfish!

She wasn't going to cry. At least not in front of him. She wouldn't do that to him, after all he'd done for them. "If you ever, and I mean EVER, put yourself through this kind of hell again without letting us in, so help me I will make sure you pay for it. Understood?" He looked at her without responding, but the answer was evident in his eyes. Pulling herself away from that look she straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath.

"OK – enough of that. Let's get this bastard." With a grin, and a gentle squeeze of his hand, Sophie left Eliot, giving him the space to refocus himself for the final confrontation.

It was quiet in the ICU, or at least as quiet as anything gets in a hospital. There was a constant low sound of machinery, monitors, respirators and all the other trappings involved in keeping patients alive for one more night. The lights were lowered to reflect the darkness of the night and, with the exception of the nurses and a few vigilant family members, the area was deserted.

It was in the relative silence that Eliot heard the soft footfall of rubber soled shoes entering his room. He fought back the instinct to open his eyes, trying to remember he was supposed to be barely alive. He could feel the presence next to the bed and felt the soft pull on his arm as the IV tube was moved ever so slightly.

"So, this is what the great and powerful Eliot Spencer is reduced to. How does it feel, knowing you are about to die? You have no idea how much I've enjoyed watching you twisting in the wind like this. Watching you agonize through this. Anthony would have loved it. He hated you from the moment he met you. So full of yourself. Thinking you were so much better than he was, then anyone was. Well, not better than me my friend. No way do you sleep through this." He reached out and quietly slapped his intended victim. Slowly Eliot pretended to regain consciousness. He looked up, apparently puzzled by Kevin's presence, not to mention the needle resting in the IV injection port.

"Good evening Spencer. So nice to see you. Allow me to properly introduce myself. Name is Daniel Chapman. While we've never had the pleasure before, you have met my brother. You remember Anthony? Of course you do, after all…you did kill him."

Eliot shook his head, holding onto the charade a little longer. In a weak whisper, he tried to object. "Self-defense."

"Don't really care Spencer. I'm sure you could rationalize anything you did. God knows, it's an essential skill in our line of work. I'm sorry – I guess I should say your FORMER line of work. Couldn't play with the big boys anymore I guess. Moreau was right – the white hat really doesn't suit you."

Eliot's eyes widened slightly at this.

"Oh – you didn't know I was with Damian then. I've been with his organization for years. Have to admit your team did a brilliant little take down there. I never thought anyone could get the upper hand on him, yet there he is locked in solitary and here you are a free man. Soon to be a dead man." He smiled at the idea. "Actually, watching you die will be so much more satisfying than the original plan. Although the suffering was extremely entertaining."

Eliot fumed to himself. He so badly wanted to end this discussion, but so far there had been no real admission, nothing that the cops who were listening (he hoped) would be able to use. He had to draw this out.

"How? The doctor said…"

"Oh yes. Dr. Michelson. Shame he killed himself. Couldn't handle yet another scandal around his medical career. You see, he wasn't licenced to practice anymore, and unfortunately made a tragic misdiagnosis of your condition. And ironically, the treatment is what killed you. At least, that's how the autopsy will read."

"Not suicide."

"Nobody will ever prove that. Just like nobody will ever prove that the air embolism that is about to kill you was the result of the needle full of oxygen I injected into you a couple of minutes ago. Any minute now you'll stroke out, and I will enjoy every last minute of your life." He didn't get the reaction he expected. There was no look of panic, or anger. Just the beginning of a smile.

Eliot sat up, smile spreading wider on his face as the pulled at the IV. The needle fell away from where it had been taped on his arm, and in that fleeting moment Kevin realized he'd been had. It took less than the blink of an eye to opt for the back-up plan, and the gun appeared in his hand faster than anyone could have anticipated. Anyone other than Eliot. He grabbed Chapman by the arm, and pushed it down, wondering briefly why the cops hadn't charged into the room. His position on the bed, combined with his weakened condition were making this a less that fair fight, and one he knew couldn't win. As the barrel turned toward him a blond blur entered his line of vision, and landed squarely on his opponents back.

"Parker – what the hell…?"

Kevin wrenched the gun from Eliot's tenuous grasp and turned in on the woman trying to bring him down.

"Not on my watch!" Eliot growled as he leapt from the bed, with energy he didn't know he had. The three of them landed on the floor as the gun slid out of reach. A quick kick from Kevin left Eliot winded, and he took advantage of the situation to bolt from the room, only to find himself facing a barricade of armed officers. He froze. Hardison moved past him to check on his friends, and Kevin made the move to grab him as a shield. He never lived to finish the action, as the officer in charge took her shot and brought him down quickly and cleanly.

Without a glance at the body, Nate and Sophie joined Hardison, rushing into the room. Parker was hugging Eliot, while trying with little success to disguise it as an effort to help him up. He was in no rush to let her go either, planning in his mind to blame it on his health if they called him on such a show of emotion. Eventually though, he was assisted back to his bed, even though he refused to lie down. "Not staying here."

"No, you probably don't really need to be taking up a bed in intensive care any longer." Nate concurred.

"Nope – the hospital. Ain't staying." He knew the arguments before any of them could speak. "Guys – you have a choice. Take me home, or watch me check out on my own without any supervision." Going with them was not his first choice, but (and he would never admit this to them or to himself) he really did not want to be alone.

Nate eyed him suspiciously, but after a moment gave him a brief nod. "You'll do what we tell you to?"

Eliot gave a small shrug. "Depends. OK fine – within reason – yes."

Sophie entered the negotiations. "No arguments, no fights. You stay put, you rest."

Barely heard under the growl was a soft "yes".

Parker smiled. "And you'll let us spoil you – just a little?" Hardison was helping him up. "We're gonna get you dressed and outta here – then we're gonna take you home and let Parker cook you some supper."

Eliot closed his eyes, searching for inner strength. "Maybe I should just stay here."

"Nope – too late. This is gonna be fun man."

"Nate, you can't let them do that to me. Nate? Nate I'm a sick man! Nate - Help me!"

 **THE END**

 _Thanks for all the kind words!_


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